


Talk

by northerndownpourr



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:19:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northerndownpourr/pseuds/northerndownpourr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Talk- something that you try to do when you love someone. Something you probably have to do figure out if you love someone, something you might have to do to figure out yourself. Something Ryan and Brendon are trying to do. Something that can save a life if you want it to. But do they want it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cactus

I looked over at him, the fringy hair, brown eyes, and the hands holding the cigarette that he took a drag on. His cheekbones, and his full lips. Standing on the balcony, I began to wonder, what he was thinking. What was crossing his mind, was it more lyrics, was it something of an unsavory variety, I pose the simple question, “Ryan, what are you thinking about, honest.”

“How everything is so unknown and so short and how I loved the fact that I woke up a little drunk and won’t have to deal with a hangover for about three more hours.” He put out the cigarette on the ground and walked back in the hotel room. I followed him, trailing behind like someone following a light, blindy and a little unsteady. 

I have always been kind of a show off, in fifth grade we had to give a speech. I had to give my speech on the desert. I brought in a cactus. I decided it would be a good idea to do a backflip to end my speech, like I said show off. I forgot to set the cactus down, and it flew out of my hand and it hit this kid named Bobby Pretnik. It poked his face and his face started bleeding. Bobby started cry, and I got suspended because the teacher thought I threw at him on purpose. Like a said a show off, and a little stupid. Right now I felt like that cactus, accidently flying, and possibly hitting someone.

When we got to the hotel room I sat down on the bed, it was kinda dusty, and definitely contaminated with some unsavory things. Laying my back down the bed, I watched Ryan pace. He stepped forward and back, with some grace actually, for someone who was still slightly drunk. 

“Ryan we have to talk about it.” I said to him sitting up on the bed.

“Talk about what, we had sex, I assume we want to continue this, right?” Ryan was holding his head. His hangover is starting to set in. 

“Ryan, I care about you and it wasn’t meaningless.” I said to him, standing up and talking loudly and fastly. I may of been flailing my arms.

“It wasn’t meaningless to me either Brendon.” He stands up, and kisses me.


	2. Doors and Guitars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Brendon open up to each other about their past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story about the broken elbow is true. Except I'm not a boy.

I hadn’t always had the best homelife, my Dad, despite being a Mormon, would come home drunk every night. He wasn’t a happy, bubbly drunk like Ryan and I, he was an abusive, awful drunk. One night he was particularly pissed of and my mom was at church so I was the one who he was going to beat on.

Upstairs playing my guitar, he literally busted down the locked door- the door came down splintering on the floor. He grabbed the guitar out of my hands and started swinging it like a mad man. FInally the heavy body came down on my leg.   
My leg was gushing blood and my guitar was snapped in half. I started to cry and he stepped over the splinters to get out of the room. But I wasn’t going to take it, I had taken abuse from just about everyone in my life being the youngest. I hobbled with my broken leg, that also had a huge gash and called 911 from my shitty Nokia cellphone. 

The police showed up and arrested my dad. My mom gave me 48 hours to get out of the house. She said I deserved whatever he did, how she could say that with 19 stitches, and a lime green cast, I don’t know. I feel like I would love Ryan no matter what did, even that. I’ve never felt that way about anyone. But I would take two broken and sliced legs over losing him, I had never told him that story. I had never told anyone except the cops.

“Ryan, I….I love you, I have since I crashed on your couch for two weeks. And I want to tell you the real reason I stayed at your house and my mom kicked me out.” I told him the story.

“Brendon why the fuck did you not tell me this... your Dad was an abusive monster and you don’t tell your best friend/whatever we are?” 

“I love you too much to hurt you like that Brendon, I love you too much to ever see anyone but you lying next to me in crappy hotel beds, and my own apartment. But I also love keeping secrets. So let’s keep this a secret. It’s not because I’m ashamed of you it’s because neither of us are out.” 

I could tell Ryan, and his perfect pretty boy image were ashamed of me. I could tell he was ashamed of how I don’t sit quietly and how I act like an ass sometimes when I'm drunk. I could just tell, but I wasn’t going to say anything. Like I said, I’d rather have two broken legs. 

“Ryan, oh, ryan. Let’s just shut up and fuck. I don’t want to talk about my Dad I want to hear one of us scream, and mooooooaaaaaannn. 

Ryan placed his lips against mine, I started pressing harder and faster. He pulled his t-shirt off, I started to kiss on his chest, until he took off his pants.

“You ready?” I could barely get the words out between hot and heavy breaths. 

“Please, please let me cum on your face.” He was moaning, rather loudly, and then finished. I wiped off my face. And sat down on the bed.

I have a habit of running away after sex, running to somewhere to get drunk and forget what happened because I was so ashamed of my self. My first time was with a girl named Megan Whitman. We had sex in her bedroom and about three minutes after it was over I got dressed and went home. She never talked to me again, thinking it was because of her. 

“Ryan, tell me a story. Something I don’t know.” I said as I put pants, and a shirt on. He put shorts and a t-shirt on. 

“Ok. When I was in seventh grade, I broke my elbow doing gymnastics. I was the only boy in the gymnastics class, every other boy took boxing. I was doing a dismount off the balance beam, and I freaked out and smacked my elbow against the balance beam. I thought it was fine, but I found out five days later it was broken. But during those five days I rather enjoyed the pain. It made me feel something, and I had been feeling nothing. I wanted to keep feeling that pain but eventually went away, except when it storms. Then I feel it again.” Ryan was pacing again. 

“Hmmmm….that’s interesting. Maybe you’re into pain.” I said to him.

“Maybe you’ll find out the answer to that someday.” He said, and laid down on the bed.


	3. We All Got Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague mentions of suicide

I remember when I first met Ryan, he was walking down the hall at my high school, dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. He looked like a lost puppy, alone, clutching his books. I walked up to him and introduced myself.

“Hey, I’m Brendon.” I said to him, he was rather cute, so I flashed him a smile.

“I’m Ryan, Ryan Ross. But the bigger question is why do you care enough to introduce yourself to me?” 

“Because you seem lonely and I am lonely too.” I said to him, the line made him smile. 

“You seem alright, Brendon. Do you want to go to my house this weekend. My parents are out of time and there’s gonna be booze.” He wrote down his address and phone number on a starbucks receipt. 

“Thanks, Ryan. I’m gonna call you RyRo. Is that cool?”

“Fine with me, I’ll have to think of a nickname for you.” He got in a beater Chevy Cobalt, a silver one. 

I stood there for my parents to come and pick me up. That weekend me, and a few other kids, all got plastered at Ryan’s house. I don’t even know what happened that weekend, I just remember chugging a bottle of vodka and waking up in Ryan’s bed with Ryan splattered on the floor. Neither of us knew what happened or how we got there. 

I looked at Ryan standing and packing his suitcase, I stood up and packed mine. We had to meet Jon and Spencer, and get ready to get on to the next show.  
“You know Brendon, your scar on your leg? We all got scars.” Ryan went into the hotel bathroom and ran his wrist under water.

He came out with makeup running down to his hand, a knife scar running the length of the inside of his wrist.

“Ryan...No...not…” I said to him grabbing his wrist.

“Yeah, when I was 15. I sliced and almost died, which was what I wanted but I didn’t want to anyone to ever see. I put scar makeup on it everyday. I was going to try again, and then I met you and realized I could never leave you. You needed me and I needed you. I didn’t want to be attracted to guys, I’ve hated my self since I was 10 and had a crush on Jonny Treacher in my 5th grade class. But I think I’m finally ok with myself. I’m not gonna put the scar makeup back on, I don’t need to hide myself.” He was starting to tear up.

I grabbed his wrist and kissed the scar, then wiped his tears from his cheeks with a sidesweep of my hand. I gently kissed him before we grabbed our suitcases and double-checked the room.


	4. Floor

__________________________________________________________________

We were all sitting on the tour bus. I was drunk again, Ryan was stoned. Jon and Spencer were just sitting there talking. We had one night in another shitty motel before the next show. We parked out of the hotel, it was a Red Roof Inn, who’s red roof had faded to a very pale and pink and the shingles had started to fall off. 

I don’t really remember checking in. Everything is hazy when you are drunk. I was in my boxers, only slightly drunk. I remember trying to go to sleep, and almost succeeding only to have Ryan climb into the bed next to me, wanting cuddle. 

His eyes, his big brown eyes in his round face with floppy brown hair was so beautiful. I took his wrist and started stroking his scar.

“Ryan, you’re never going to try this again right?” My voice was sloppy, but filled some fire, some deep desire for him to be ok. More than I wanted to be ok.

“I promise, I love you.” He snuggled his head into my chest, and drifted off to sleep, my hand still clutching his scar. I didn’t want to let go. I never wanted to go. 

When I was 15, I struggled with depression. Everything was dark, deep and dark and miserable. That was why I walked up to Ryan. I saw it in his eyes, he understood, he truly understood what it was like to feel like everyday you hate who you are and you just want to lay in bed, and never move and never dream. I just knew it. And as he snuggled up next to me and the curtains in the hotel room turned into Ryan’s living room and a bottle of vodka, I knew I was right.   
In the middle of the night I woke up to find Ryan on the floor.

“Ryan, you’re on the floor, get up.” My words slurred. 

He mumbled in cohherntly and I picked him, he was suprisingly light and I tucked him in, when he was asleep I grabbed the scar and held onto his wrist.


	5. Slam

Ryan started moving around at about six. 

“Ryan come here, settle down. It’s just six. Give me your wrist. I want you to think instead of the scar, I want you to think of me kissing it. I want you to think of me, I want you think of me placing my arm around you, like I am doing now. I want you to think of sweet kisses I will plant all over your body. I want you to think of how you are the most beautiful person I know, physically and emotionally and in every way possible. I want you to think of me.” I wrapped us both under the blankets my arms holding Ryan tightly against my chest. 

“I love you Bren, that’s your nickname, Bren. It suits you and its so cute, you are my love.” He fell asleep soon after that, I started squeezing him tighter, and once again I rubbed the scar.

Around 11:00 we woke up tangled in each other, his body loosely around mine and my body wrapping its’ self around his.

“What do you say about some early morning sex? Ryan asked me. 

“It’s not early but yes. I would like that very much.”

“I want you to slam me against the wall, hard.” Ryan’s breath was hot and heavy, and I smacked him against the hotel wall.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked as I was about to get inside him.

“Yeah, that’s the point. NOW, inside me, NOW.” Ryan was screaming as I thrusted and came all over him. 

“Brendon you are so good, something about being slammed into the wall...oh my god that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. You’re so big.” He was laying there sweating. 

“And you’re so tight, I kinda want you to bite me next time, I think that would be hot. I said to Ryan, laying down next to him. 

“I’d be into that, that sounds really hot.” Suddenly Jon and Spencer knocked on the door.


	6. Jaws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The jaw story actually happened to me

I had Ryan standing against a dresser and he started saying “I want you to hurt me Brendon, make me feel it, make me bruise.” Ryan was pleading. 

“Ok Ryan, get down on your knees and suck,” I grabbed his wrists and twisted his arms behind h  
“Do you want me to bite you, Ry? Would you like that?” I asked him, I was actually very turned on by this and didn’t think I would be. I started biting his neck and then when it was time to go inside, I grabbed his hair and pushed him against the wall again.

“God fucking damn it Brendon, I’m covered in bruises and that was easily the hottest sex I ever had. If you have any “special requests” I will be more than happy to oblige. 

“So you do have a pain kick, Ry?” I laughed at him as I got dressed. 

“Yes, I do. Let’s go get something to eat.” Ryan put on a big t-shirt, and very tight skinny jeans. I had a similar outfit.

We went down to the hotel “bar and grille” and got a table. 

“Ryan, do you remember the first time we went out to eat, we were hungover and wanted waffles, and got your mom to drive us to waffle house?” I asked him, thinking back to both of us with sunglasses on to hide our hangover from his mom, in her minivan on the way to the Waffle House. 

“Yeah, what made you think of that?” Ryan had started drinking a sprite the waiter had brought, and I was having a Coke. 

“When you were sitting at that waffle house with your fringy emo hair and messed up eyeliner is when I realized I loved you. Cracking jokes, and shoving waffles into your face still a little drunk. I’ve loved you ever since.” I said to him.

“I loved you when I heard you sing Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah to yourself in the hallway between class.” Ryan said to me.

I thought back to second grade. I was playing on a fake four wheeler. The neighbor girl was on the four wheeler with me along with my friends standing on the side of the sloped driveway. We started heading for the house and the neighbor girl jumped off sending me out of control. I jumped off right before hitting their house and smacked two teeth out and and sliced the inside of my jaw. Blood was running everywhere and the other kids started screaming. We ran back to my house next store where my mom did everything she could.

We found later that day my jaw was broken and they wired it shut for three weeks. I lost 10 lbs. Ryan made me feel like my jaw was wired shut, unable to talk and unable to feel anything in my face.


	7. Flips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story about drinking is true, only it is happening right now and I'm 18 not 13.

The show had gone over pretty well. Everything sounded good, and the crowd seemed to be enjoying themselves. I was now drunk and hanging on to Ryan’s shoulder because I couldn’t stand up straight. He seemed slightly annoyed because I think I was being too affectionate. I didn’t care because I was wasted, but he was slightly drunk too.

I thought back to the first time I got drunk, I was 13 in my grandparent’s basement, I opened bottles of beer and refilled them with water. I then proceeded in 8 days to drink two and half bottles of whisky, a bottle of creme de menthe, and a six pack. It was one hell of a vacation from what little I remember. 

I have always liked that feeling of being on top of the world, in the same way I liked the feeling of my broken elbow and broken jaw. It made me feel something, something that I couldn’t feel without chemicals or pain. Something good, something sweet and dizzying but beautiful.

When Ryan led me back to the hotel I started doing flips on the bed.

“Brendon, calm the fuck down, you need to sleep.” Ryan sat down on the bed next to me when I finally sat down.

“But baby, I’m having fun.” I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

“Well baby, your fun is going to get the band kicked out of the hotel.” Ryan started stroking my hair as we both stripped down to our boxers. He laid down next to me, and leaned into my chest, suddenly everything was perfect.

“I love you so much, Ryro.” I kissed his forehead.

“I love you too, Bren.” He snuggled closer to me and I placed my arm around him.

All I could think before I drifted off was, stay gold, stay gold.


	8. Flips and Drinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drinking story is true only its happening right now and I'm 18 not 13

The show had gone over pretty well. Everything sounded good, and the crowd seemed to be enjoying themselves. I was now drunk and hanging on to Ryan’s shoulder because I couldn’t stand up straight. He seemed slightly annoyed because I think I was being too affectionate. I didn’t care because I was wasted, but he was slightly drunk too.

I thought back to the first time I got drunk, I was 13 in my grandparent’s basement, I opened bottles of beer and refilled them with water. I then proceeded in 8 days to drink two and half bottles of whisky, a bottle of creme de menthe, and a six pack. It was one hell of a vacation from what little I remember. 

I have always liked that feeling of being on top of the world, in the same way I liked the feeling of my broken elbow and broken jaw. It made me feel something, something that I couldn’t feel without chemicals or pain. Something good, something sweet and dizzying but beautiful.

When Ryan led me back to the hotel I started doing flips on the bed.

“Brendon, calm the fuck down, you need to sleep.” Ryan sat down on the bed next to me when I finally sat down.

“But baby, I’m having fun.” I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

“Well baby, your fun is going to get the band kicked out of the hotel.” Ryan started stroking my hair as we both stripped down to our boxers. He laid down next to me, and leaned into my chest, suddenly everything was perfect.

“I love you so much, Ryro.” I kissed his forehead.

“I love you too, Bren.” He snuggled closer to me and I placed my arm around him.

All I could think before I drifted off was, stay gold, stay gold.


End file.
